


Tonight, Tonight

by thewronglong



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Come Swallowing, Comfort Sex, F/M, Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), First Time, Getting Together, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), Light Angst, No beta we fall like Crowley, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21828607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewronglong/pseuds/thewronglong
Summary: Nanny Ashtoreth is feeling down about losing her baby Warlock, Aziraphale's intent to distract her with alcohol turns into a new distraction entirely.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 67





	Tonight, Tonight

The grounds of the Dowling estate was dark, as it should be, it was 1am after all. Crowley sat on a stone bench poking at the ground at his feet with a stick. The slow scraping at the hard packed earth was forming a hole, she'd been working at the task for hours. She'd come out here to clear her head after getting the news, Nanny Ashtoreth was being "let go", made redundant. It was no surprise really, Warlock was getting a bit old to have a nanny, but still, Crowley was hoping that they'd wait at least another month or two, perhaps three. 

The truth was, she didn't want to go. She'd become attached. She knew better, this was the Antichrist she was raising after all. But after years and years of scraped knees, runny noses, and surprise hugs, it was hard to say good-bye. It always was. Most of the humans she'd lost in the past were lost to death, not a fortnight of notice. She sat in the dark, trying her best not to think. She hadn't even bothered to try sleeping, knowing that all she would do is lie there and think, caught up in memories and trepidations. She didn't look up when the angel slid into the seat beside her.

"There you are," said Aziraphale, feeling the need to speak, but having a clue as to what to say.

"Here I am." Came a quiet reply, full of badly hidden emotions.

"Indeed…" the angel fidgeted for a while, gathering the courage to continue. "I heard… well, you know, the staff do like to talk."

"Mmmhmm"

"I thought you should know I put in my notice. I mean, well, it's only fair. I don't suppose there's much more we could teach him. Let the pieces fall, as it were."

Crowley finally looked up at the angel on the bench. Aziraphale was in his usual form, having dropped the Brother Francis persona for the evening. It wasn't uncommon for the angel to walk the grounds at night when everyone else was asleep, but if he said that he hadn't been out looking for the demon turned nanny he'd be lying.

"Let the pieces fall? He's not a pawn. He's just a boy… only yesterday a… baby." My baby, she thought, even though she knew better, but really it was the closest Crowley would ever get to having one of her own. Warlock was the first child Crowley had raised since the group from the arc, and those children, save one, had all been older than five and, to an extent, able to fend for themselves. The eldest of the group, a girl of 13, had taken over as a surrogate mother in day to day activities, the demon dropping into their little homestead weekly with supplies and stories. Crowley had gotten to cuddle the baby Warlock, teach him, was him grow, first steps, first words, first demonic chant. Sure, Warlock could be a little shit, but he was HER little shit. Seeing the sadness in Aziraphale's eyes she had to amend that. He was THEIR little shit.

Now Crowley was losing him, just like everyone else, and everything else if this whole scheme turns out unsuccessful, even Aziraphale, the one thing in the past 6000 years that had stayed constant. The thought made something shift in her chest, the lump in her throat turning into an involuntary sob. She turned away from the angel, embarrassed and ashamed of such an obvious display of emotion, no matter how small it actually was. 

Aziraphale reached out to put a hand on the shoulder of the demon, only pulling back at the last second, fingers almost able to feel the static on her clothes. "My dear," he said instead, "How would you like a drink?"

\--

The Hermitage in which Brother Francis resided stood at the edge of the property, surrounded by shrubbery and, at the moment, darkness. Crowley had visited it many times over the past few years, and each visit it seemed to have gotten both larger in square footage and smaller in actual space. It was beginning to look a lot like a smaller version of the bookshop filled will piles of books and scattered with used tea cups. 

Crowley sprawled across the overstuffed tattered sofa that took up most of the front room as best she could in a tight woolen skirt. With a wave of his hand the angel had started a fire in a smallish hearth and Crowley was thankful for the heat. The night wouldn't be called more than chilly to most, but after hours out in it, the cold-blooded demon had more than a bit of a chill. She felt an extra heat in her heart, and, if she were being honest, a bit lower, from the fact that the angel knew this without having to ask.

"Wine or whiskey?" Asked the angel, holding up two aged bottles.

"Do you even need to ask?" Was the response. The wine bottle was placed back into a cabinet of the kitchenette and two tumblers were produced. 

So they drank, and talked about everything but what they needed to talk about. Eventually Crowley's hair came down, leaving a mess of bobby pins that are still being found to this day. The jacket went next, shucked soon after the combination of a roaring fire and copious amounts of alcohol started to take effect. Next, to Aziraphale's quiet amusement came a black, lacy bra, pulled like a magic trick from a shirt sleeve. 

She huffed a laugh when she saw the angel's face at the garment now lying on the coffee table. "Dunno why I bother, bloody uncomfortable things." Crowley didn't actually need a bra, her breasts barely filled the A cups, but Nanny Ashtoreth wouldn't dare be seen without one, it was part of the persona, like the old school seamed stockings and garter belt hidden away under a black silk slip and woolen skirt. It made her feel sexy to know it was there. It made her feel sexy to see the pink tips of Aziraphale's ears as he glanced from the bra to her exposed knee, her skirt having ridden up as she'd adjusted her position on the sofa to turn to face the angel.

"I suppose it would rather be…" agreed the angel, trying not to look at how the top few buttons of her shirt was open, and only a little silver snake pendant on a chain broke up the gorgeous length of her neck meeting the soft white skin of her chest. He took a large drink of whiskey, trying to burn out the ache in his chest. 

Crowley smirked at the fidgeting angel. He could be so hard to resist at times like this, flustered and reluctant, but obviously interested. Oh and Crowley was interested too, had been for far longer than she wanted to admit. That familiar ache in her chest, the knot in her throat, always seemed like too much to handle. She'd always fight it, always tell herself "maybe someday". Someday? When? It was all about to end, go pear shaped, as Aziraphale would say. They would fight it, yes they would, they would scratch tooth and nail at another someday, another day to put off the inevitable, or the never would be. Her eyes became hot behind her glasses as she stared at the angel before her. Her time was up with Warlock, would her time be up with Aziraphale soon? She couldn't have that. Perhaps they couldn't have it all before it all potentially ended, but, she decided, a decision born from hurt and booze, they could have something, they could have tonight. But would the angel be willing?

Crowley knew the hedonistic angel had to have experiment with sex over the past six thousand years, hadn't he? There had been times when he'd let his guard down, showing the demon glimpses of lust, just as sure as he soaked up the love the demon extruded in waves. As sure as the demon was about the hesitant feelings of Aziraphale, there was something that made her unsure.

She leaned back on the sofa, harnessing the extra confidence she gained from her female form, letting her skirt ride up a bit more, the tops of her stockings becoming dangerously close to being exposed. "Do you like this?" She cooed, trying to sound seductive, with only a hint of shakiness breaking through.

Aziraphale reddened prettily, glancing down at the long silk covered leg that was becoming very close to brushing against his own. "Like… what?"

Crowley waved a hand down her body, "this… err… me, as a woman."

"You've been a woman many times over the years, you're always lovely."

It was time for Crowley to blush now, she held it at Bay as best she could, cheeks only reddening a bit as she began to fidget. "I mean… do you want, err, like, this sort of form?" There it was. Crowley knew the persona the angel had crafted for himself over the years, and what it implied.

The angel let a small smile grace his lips, his hand found its way to Crowley's knee. "I like YOU, Crowley, no matter what form you take."

"Ngk.. well," she took a deep breath, drawing forth all of the confidence she could muster. The fear of losing Aziraphale both caused her pause and egged her on. "Would you like to see more of it?" 

Aziraphale was visibly flustered. His mouth opened and closed more than once and he kept looking away, only for his eyes to be drawn back to the demon's waiting face. "Crowley… I…" he began hesitantly.

"No… no problem, angel, I shouldn't have." Crowley sat back up pushing her skirt down and reached for her jacket, ready to flee. "Should have known better. Just thought… not having much time and all…" 

Crowley was almost to her feet, but a soft hand on her arm gave made her stop short, frozen by the touch. She looked at it, then at the blond before her, whose face was rapidly getting closer to her own, it took her a couple of seconds re-booting her brain to realize that she was now sitting on soft angel thighs.

The angel smiled softly up at her, "may I?" He asked, reaching for her glasses. The smallest of nods gave permission, and Aziraphale was greeted by stunning golden eyes. "It does grieve me so to see such beauty hidden." He ran his knuckles down Crowley's cheek, feeling the soft, cool skin against his own. 

Crowley leaned into the touch, covering the angel's hand with her own, clasping them together and turning to kiss the angel's knuckles, letting her lips slowly press between the cracks of his fingers. The smallest of gasps escaped the angel's mouth and it sent a shockwave of electricity through the demon that she felt all the way down to her toes. In the darkness of Aziraphale's blown out pupils she could see her reflection as she uncurled one manicured finger and kissed the tip. 

It was the smallest of kisses, but the brush of Crowley's lips against his finger was one of the most… no, scratch that, the most erotic things he'd ever experienced. "Crow-ley..." He breathed, voice cracking under the tension of the tenderness of it all.

"Mmmm?" Came the reply, as another finger was uncurled and kissed.

"As much," he swallowed, "as much as I'm enjoying this, I can think of a much better use for those lips of yours."

Crowley stopped, cocked an eyebrow and a delicious grin spread across her face, "oh, really?" She nipped at a soft fingertip.

A blush spread down Aziraphale's collar and Crowley couldn't help but wonder wear it ended. "Erm, yes.." the flustered angel squirmed, hoping the demon couldn't feel the interest his Effort had taken in Crowley's response to his unintended innuendo. "I would very much like to kiss you."

Crowley surged forward, ready to crash their lips together in a heated battle of tongues and lips, but Aziraphale pulled away. "Not so fast dear," he smiled at the pouting demon, "allow me." Locks of wavy red hair was brushed to the side as the angel took Crowley's face in his hands, tracing her lips with his thumb. When their lips finally met, Crowley thought she might catch alright with the fire that seemed to flow from her mouth down to her middle where it formed a fireball ready to erupt. 

They never separated as Crowley moved to straddle her angel, skirts hiked up. Her lips parted in a gasp as she felt Aziraphale's hand on one thigh. A tongue found its way into Crowley's mouth, licking and exploring, soft yet persistent. Crowley answered with her own, one hand gripping the back of the angel's head, the other finding Aziraphale's, pushing it further up her thigh. His fingers found flesh, digging underneath the thin strap of her garter, squeezing at milky cool flesh he found there. When another hand found another thing they were both massaged in unison, causing a moan to escape the demon's throat. 

Aziraphale's response to the sound was immediate, his kisses reaching an urgent pace as his hands delved further up her skirt to grasp at her bottom. He pulled her closer, their bodies now flush, she could feel hardness straining the fabric of his trousers. Crowley ground herself into it, causing Aziraphale to buck and break their kiss. "Ahahaha" he cried, a pitch higher than he'd expected. 

"What's the matter, angel?" Crowley asked, swiveling her hips, letting Aziraphale's erection rub her through her lacy black panties. Leaning back, she found the angel a sight, his usually innocent gaze dark with desire, lips swollen and red, face flushed and pink. Despite her coy posturing a part of her was still afraid the angel would still push her away, scold her for her wiles, and tell her this could never be.

Aziraphale shook his head, "My dear, everything is perfect. You're perfect."

Crowley broke eye contact at the praise burying her face in Aziraphale's neck, nuzzling and kissing the soft skin there. She felt a hand making an attempt at the buttons of her blouse. Was her angel trying to undress her? She smiled and sat up, making quick work of her buttons. 

"Oh, my…" the angel breathed, reaching up tentatively to a perky breast, cupping it to feel her hard nipple against his palm and giving it a gentle squeeze. Crowley groaned, throwing her head back, her body writhing like the snake she was in his lap as he began to pinch both of her nipples, rolling the buds between his fingers. Her grinding became more urgent. Aziraphale began squeezing in time with the drag of her silk covered wetness against his hard member, and when she felt the heat of his mouth envelop a sensitive, hardened nipple, she surprised them both by coming undone. 

Aziraphale held her through it, her hips shaking as she pressed almost painfully against him. She almost came again when she opened her eyes, looking down at the angel beaming up at her in pure love. She couldn't stand the look for long, pulling him into another kiss instead and working at his bowtie. Her fingers didn't seem to want to work and the angel soon took over the task only submitting to help when he leaned forward and let her pull his delicate blue button up off his back. His vest soon followed. Crowley attacked the exposed skin, kissing and licking at the soft expanse of real estate like a being who had been longing for it for thousands of years. When her tongue found a soft pink nipple she nipped at it and the angel keened and his hips bucked involuntarily. This brought the demons attention lower. 

Crowley slid off of the angel's lap and onto the floor spreading his legs and settling in between. Aziraphale reached to his belt, but his hands were pushed away. The demon lay her head against a plush thigh, admiring the thick bulge straining against tan cloth. She pawed at the surrounding fabric, bunching it up in order to see a better outline of what it held. 

Aziraphale watched in awe at the worship his body was getting, basking in the love he felt both from and for the demon. He was achingly hard, but determined to be patient, he gripped at the sofa's cushions in an effort to be good. His fingers dug into the fabric of the sofa as long fingers wrapped around his clothes cock and moaned as they squeezed. 

Aziraphale's reaction spurred Crowley on, she finally undid his fly exposing surprisingly modern dark red boxer briefs. She made a note to ask about those later, instead opting to pull down the angel's pants and reveal more of the undergarment. Still, she didn't expose Aziraphale's cock yet, no matter how ready it seemed to meet her, choosing instead to mouth at it through the cloth. She pressed her tongue to the wet spot at the tip, getting a first taste of precum, making her wet for more. Finally she pulled back the cloth to reveal her prize. 

Aziraphale's cock was as pretty as she imagined, not as long as the one she used when she chose to have one, but long enough to suit his substantial girth without being considered stubby. It was perfectly proportioned, as tasty of a treat as she'd ever seen. It was warm in her hand, almost hot. Wrapping long fingers around Aziraphale's thick member, Crowley pulled back his foreskin, revealing his flushed red glans. It was begging to be licked, so she did. It was just a quick flick of her tongue, more of snakey sniff really. She did it a few more times as she pumped her hand along the angel's hot shaft. Soon he was squirming and bucking his hips for more contact. 

Crowley pressed down on with her fist, grasping him at the base and slowly, with the flat of her tongue, licked a stripe along the bottom from root to tip. "Crowley!" Gasped the angel, his hands flying to her head. 

She pulled his hands away, placing them back at his sides, and sat up. She grinned wickedly as her hands went to her hair. It took the angel a second to realize her plans and why she suddenly felt the need to put her hair up in a messy red bun atop her head.

They say the choir of angels is the most beautiful sound one could ever hear, but they are wrong… to Crowley, at least. The most beautiful sound ever is the sound that escapes an angel's mouth when the mouth of the demon they love wraps around their cock and slowly sinks all the way down to the base in one intensely erotic move.

Crowley stayed there for a moment, nose buried in white curls, savoring the feel of Aziraphale's thick cock stretching her jaw, the weight of it against her tongue, the press of it against the roof of her mouth, how she had to relax her throat to let the head nudge its way back, pressing and penetrating. She could stay like this forever, save for her desire to feel her angel's come pumping down her throat, so she began to move. The drag of Aziraphale's cock against her tongue was amazing, as well as the sounds he was making. She snapped her fingers mid bob and the trousers that pooled by Crowley's knees vanished, to reappear in a neat pile in the corner along with his other remaining clothes and Crowley's skirt and slip. 

She continued her ministrations, rubbing the angel's thighs as they flanked her, his feet now planted on the coffee table, hands in her hair, and hips thrusting with each swallow of his cock. On one particularly high thrust her hands found their way under him, cupping his ass helping him push upward as he fucked her face. Crowley's hands on Aziraphale's bottom seemed to do something to him, his back arched and his wings sprung forth, pushing him upwards into the demon's slobber covered tear stained face. The extra leverage given by the wings gave Crowley an idea, a slick finger working its way to Aziraphale's hole. He gasped as he was penetrated, unable to hold out much longer. A stream of syllables leaving his mouth as she found his prostate. "....mmmgggg Crowley, it's so good, you're so good to me, please, please, I'm gonna…" Crowley's long digit pressed into the nerve bundle and he keened spilling down Crowley's long throat. Her eyes widened, as she felt the angel's seed pump down her throat, but she swallowed against the onslaught of liquid, taking as much as she was given, hungry for more. 

After a moment or two he collapsed, his spent member sliding from her mouth. He slid off the couch onto the floor beside her, wings resting on the sofa. "Oh, my dear," he panted out, "I've imagined for long, but this, you..." He wiped a dribble of come from the corner of her mouth, "have exceeded my wildest expectations."  
He pulled her in for a slow and sloppy kiss. "I do hope you allow me to return the favor."

**Author's Note:**

> This may not be complete, but I hope you've enjoyed part one.
> 
> Comments keep me alive.
> 
> Love you all!


End file.
